


Vivre dans l'instant

by jfcxtommo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Fluff, French Louis, M/M, No Smut, Teacher Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:45:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jfcxtommo/pseuds/jfcxtommo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-six year old Louis Tomlinson left Paris to pursue his dreams of opening up a bakery he could call his own, but finds that might not be the only thing Cheshire has to offer him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vivre dans l'instant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Prompt was "Louis is a french baker that moves from Paris to Cheshire and Harry is the shy boy that goes in one day to buy some sort of pastry for his mother and he ends up falling for the pretty baker with blue eyes even though Harry is awkward and shy and insecure"
> 
> I'm not sure I achieved that and I'm very sorry if it disappoints! I tried. Fluff is not my strong suit but this plot bunny took over with seven days before the end of the exchange so I ran with it. I hope you enjoy it anyway.
> 
> Special thanks to my proofreading squad.

One of the biggest annoyances in Louis Tomlinson’s life was the fact that he could never plan his day from start to finish with no surprises. The universe seemed to take a keen delight on fucking with him to the point he’d abandoned all attempts at to-do lists and color coded schedules and just did his best to vivre dans l’instant. Live for the moment so nothing could be too big of a disappointment or a surprise. Or something. Louis should probably stop taking life advice from his perpetually stoned best friend, but it’d made a lot of sense at the time, and somehow in following it he’d ended up somewhere in the United Kingdom with a bakery named Sucré Instantanée.

Life could be worse, really.

Or maybe it couldn’t.

It was barely pushing 6 degrees celsius by the time he rolls out of bed these days, raining more often than not, and pitch black. And to top all of that off, he was having one of those mornings that included spilled tea, blown out umbrellas, and a horrible realization that he’d forgotten to change out of his pajama pants. It was very much NOT his day. His cashier for the day, a local named Neil or Nail or something, took one look at him before rushing to the back to start a very large kettle. Luckily, this sort of thing happened often enough Louis had learned to keep spare clothes at his store and disappeared to the back to start preheating ovens and changing into his official baking attire. Something about doing up the buttons on his double breasted chef jacket still ran shivers up and down his spine despite having been working in kitchens for nearly a decade. Grinning foolishly at himself in the mirror, he decided that as of this moment, his fate was going to change. It was not going to be another day of him bumbling through the universe’s attempts to trip him, no sir, he was going to have an amazing day.

With an extra pep in his step, he turned back to his ovens, beginning to whip out the basic staples he’d come to expect from his local clientele. Louis had never gone into baking for fame, glory, or a tv spot. He had no desire to overcharge for his products, or demand people wait in ridiculous lines for his ‘exclusive’ creations. He was of the belief that food was much like love and should be shared often and quite freely. As such, his bakery had become quite the sensation in the small town he’d settled in and four months later, he was confident he knew most of them by sight. Granted, he wasn’t so lucky when it came to names, but referring to them by their preferred orders seemed to keep them charmed instead of offended. For instance, he knew without even looking at the clock that it was precisely 6:27am and the chime of the bells was signaling Mr. Black Tea with a Blueberry Scone. Automatically, Louis peeked his head out of the back, waving a quick greeting at the man who sleepily returned it while collecting his usual.

“Good day, Monsieur Tomlinson.”

“Is it?” Louis walked out to showcase that he was, in fact, wearing most of a bag of flour that’d decided to split along the bottom as he took it off the shelf. “I’m not sure l’univers has got the memo.”

Mr. Black Tea with a Blueberry Scone finally cracked the smile Louis had been waiting months to see and nodded as he tipped his cup towards Louis. “That just made my morning, lad. So yes, it’s a good day indeed. Cheers, boys.”

Louis returned the sentiment, but ducked back in the kitchen in order to keep up with the morning rush. While he liked knowing his store was the first place many stopped in for a quick bite or a hot drink before rushing off to work, errands, or school, he sometimes selfishly wished they could organize themselves and come in small trickles consistently through the day instead of a mad rush for the first couple and last hours he was open every once in awhile.

Just as he was musing the idea of a midday sale or something to encourage return traffic, N-something, maybe he should just call him N -- Louis was reasonably certain the man’s name started with an N after all -- started shouting. Yelling for him typically only meant one thing and Louis was not in the mood. Still, he grumpily tried to pat the worse of the flour off of his uniform before practicing the polite smile he reserved for people who dared to tell him how to better his craft (my Mom’s pies never look like this / you’re doing it wrong/ this didn’t taste good / or his personal favorite - it’s all wonky, don’t you have a nicer one because pies should look like plastic and not homemade hmpf) before walking back out to the sales floor. Once his eyes rose from the floor to the stranger in the room, his feet literally stopped without his permission. This was not an irate customer, in fact it was very unlikely this man was even a customer.

There was literally an angel in his salesroom.

 A blushing, curly-haired, legs-for-days, green-eyed angel.

 “Mon Dieu.” Louis whispered, before quickly recovering control of his feet again and moving to take up his place at N’s side. After a beat, he even managed to extend a hand out to the gorgeous man that was by some miracle standing in his bakery. “Bienvenue. How can I eh, assist you, today?”

 “This is Harry,” N spoke up instead, “He’s been me best man for ages, and his Mum’s birthday is coming up. He needs you to make a cake that not only says ‘Happy Birthday’ but also ‘Surprise! I’m gay’.”

 Louis promptly choked on nothing at all, glancing between the boy who was positively purple and staring at the ground like he’d pay for it to open up and eat him, and a very giggly N.

 “Quoi?” Louis breathed out finally, shaking his hair out of sheer nerves, a quiet ‘merde' slipping out when the action caused little puffs of flour to float in the air around him. “Is he…” Louis quickly racked his brain for the English equivalent, but he and N hadn’t covered that in his rushed probably very incorrect English lessons. “Yours?” he finished finally.

 “No, no, NO!” The indignant burst made him jump having not expected to hear a peep from the gorgeous boy but now he was quite stuck in the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. Or something. “I am Harry. But I’m not - Niall’s just my friend. My very straight friend who is very very dead as soon as he’s off work.”

 “S'il vous plâit …no kill him. I would hate to hire someone new.”

 Both boys started to laugh and Louis felt himself relaxing a little, growing a little more confident in both his English and his flirting skills. Maybe they hadn’t been left in culinary school after all. With a light tint to his own cheeks now, he took the chance to duck behind the counter to grab his look book, for lack of a better word. He liked having a record of the things he’d done and often took pictures of the things he was really proud of. N was the one who encouraged him to show it to new customers, though Louis always promised each event’s centerpiece would be completely one of a kind and never repeated.

 “Can I get you something, Monsieur?” Louis asked quietly, “You look like the tea and fruit tart type. I make them this morning, and will be happy to get you one.”

 “Oh, no I’m okay. I just -“

 “One cannot focus on food with empty stomach, trust me. I know.” Louis winked, grabbing said tart out of the case and directing N to bring them two teas pronto as he led Harry away from the cash register so he could get a better feel for the man and his mother. Patiently, Louis sat and waited silently until a defeated Harry accepted the tart and rose it to his mouth. His very pink and fluffy mouth that distracted Louis for a few moments before he remembered he was supposed to be watching reactions. The first bite was often the most telling and he’d very nearly missed it.

 And what a miss it would have been.

 Harry’s eyes had shut, his blush spreading as he tilted his head back, a slight groan escaping as he hopefully savored the play of sweet and sour on his tongue, before he seemed to remember his company and immediately looked back down. The rest was quickly swallowed down before he started opening and closing his mouth a few times, apparently at a loss of words before finally, “This is incredible. You are very talented.”

 “This is nothing, but I am happy you enjoy” Louis shot back, almost too easily, as he smiled at the man across from him. “You are very pretty when you enjoy something. But, um. Cake?” Almost shyly now, Louis pushed the book over, though he left his fingers on the cover for a moment. “I make things once. This is for ideas, only. What does um, how makes your Mum smile?”

 Harry was still staring at him and this time Louis found himself growing pinker and uncertain under the look. He wasn’t sure what the other man was looking at or for.

 “Answer is not on my face.” Louis said finally with a little giggle as he pulled his hands back, “She like chocolate? Vanilla? Or almond? Fruit? Sweet? Caramel?”

 Now it was Harry’s turn to smile as he shrugged slightly, turning his attention to the book. Soft gasps and gentle caresses of pages followed soon after, leaving Louis’ ego feeling pretty good about itself, but looks were just a small part of baking. He found himself wishing again that there was some way possible to keep small bites of each cake fresh and available for everyone to taste as well as see. It does not do to just talk about coffee infused cake because Louis knew that while his taste buds reacted accordingly just to the description, it was not so for many others.

 “She’s very easy to please.” Harry said finally, “She wouldn’t like a big fuss to be made. Maybe a cheesecake?” Louis’ eyebrow rose. “Or maybe options are a better choice. Could you do like a …” One of his large hands waved around and Louis found himself giggling again as he reached out to catch it before it knocked into one of his carefully constructed displays.

 “Like a sampling platter? Cookies, chocolate, cake bites, lots of small choices?”

 “Yes! That would be. Yes.”

 “Oui. How many people?”

 “Oh, um. Thirty?”

 Quickly, Louis dropped Harry’s hand when he realized he was still holding it, though not quick enough to escape N’s smirk as he dropped the tea off. There was something devious in his look that he’d have to remember to ask about later, but for now, he just curled a hand around the cup and used the other to pull a small pad out of his pocket and a fish for a pen.

 “Is there anything she no like?”

 Harry had a habit of biting on his lips when he thought, which really did nothing to improve Louis’ concentration.

 “Toffee,” he said finally, “It wouldn’t ruin her day if it’s there, but it’s probably better to just leave it off, if that’s okay?”

 “Her day,” Louis reminded, “It’s all okay. When is the party?”

 “Um, Saturday. Is that … is that enough time?”

 “Plenty,” Louis forgot about the pretty boy for a moment as he started scrawling notes down to himself, ideas for macarons, tiny slices of opera cake, éclairs, mille-fueilles filling the page then moving on to ideas for serving platters as well, before he looked up, slightly confused a few minutes later.

 “Do you want one big … “ Louis sighed, trying to gesture with his hands, “Or will the food be …” he mimed a waiter, hopefully, but Harry was just staring at him with wide eyes, before bursting into laughter again.

 “Heeeelllp.” Louis called over his shoulder, shooting his cashier a hopefully endearing pout as Harry continued to laugh. To be honest, Louis’d only hired the blond boy because he’d made Louis laugh during the interview and had known a handful of French words. It became clear after he hired him that he’d been using a language app under the table, but he never regretted hiring the boy. Even now as he watched Niall grab a basket of something before coming over to the table and offering it to Harry first, while attempting to keep Louis from seeing, he found himself endeared rather than annoyed. Judging by the smell drifting across the table, the stolen goods were the croissants that’d just been taken out of the oven but before he could open his mouth to feign protest, Harry was once again making sinful noises and well, who could resist that? Another smug look was sent his way by Niall through a mouthful of his own, but Louis chose to ignore it.

 “Une vitrine?” Louis said instead, “Ou serverus?”

Niall huffed, but dug his phone out and had Louis repeat himself before glancing back at Harry, “He wants to know if you want a display on a table, or if people are going to be carrying the food around the party, all fancy and shit. Or both, given how he’s an overachiever.”

“Oh, it’s not that fancy,” Harry said around a mouthful that he hurried to chew and swallow, “One display is fine.”

Smiling slightly, Louis nodded to show he understood and sketched a few more things before he stood up, “I’ll have things for you to taste tomorrow, oui? Then Friday, then party! N, here will get time and place. Enchante, Harry.”

Louis made it halfway back to the safety of his kitchen before he turned around, “It was joke… the surprise gay?”

For the first time, Harry looked truly uncomfortable, so Louis moved back to the table, a frown he wasn’t even aware of settling onto his mouth.

“Not so much a joke. A drunken night turned into rapid-fire gossip and it’s just a matter of time before it gets back to her, you know? So I thought I’d tell her tonight, give her a day or so to deal with it, then face the music at the party. If I’m still invited after tonight.”

“Come here.”

Holding his arms out and having completely forgotten he was still 80% covered in flour, he waited for the other man to get up and hug him already. He’d noticed Harry’s legs before, but he hadn’t realized that those legs coupled on that body meant the person attempting to cuddle him was about twice his size once Harry swooped down on him. Still, Louis held him back as tightly as he dared, raising up on his tip toes to whisper in his ear.

“There is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect. Do not let anyone make you think you are less.”

Squeezing him lightly one last time, he pulled his arms back, and fell back to the flats of his feet, aiming one more sunny smile up at the man he’d taken a rather alarming keen interest in. “You always welcome here. I see you at 12. N, do some work!”

 Winking around Harry’s body at the blue eyed boy, he headed back to the kitchen, a weird knot in his stomach he couldn’t recognize nor name, but knew it’d be easily forgotten once he started to bake. There wasn’t time to meet the birthday lady, but judging on the way Harry handled himself, he could make certain assumptions about her general disposition and that was enough to go on for now. Harry could help him fine tune it tomorrow. Tonight was all about experimenting with old and new, French and British traditions, until he felt comfortable about what he had to show Harry. Darkness had long fallen by the time he was finished, N having punched out and closed up some time before, though not without leaving a covered plate on the front counter with a large note saying “Louis, please eat me.”.

 The gesture made him smile, and he did remember, this time, to pick the plate up and take it with him as he trudged back home to pick up a few hours of sleep before doing it all again.

~

 

The morning rush had finally ended giving Louis about an hour to prepare before Harry’s arrival. Much to N’s amusement, Louis was rushing about mumbling half-sensical words under his breath, changing his mind halfway through each decision, and spending a lot of time going absolutely nowhere at all. Granted, this wasn’t exactly unusual territory for him. He took each of his clients very seriously and didn’t see the point of doing anything if he wasn’t giving 100% of himself in it, but this was different. He didn’t know why it was, but he really, really, didn’t want to disappoint Harry and his family. N seemed to pick up on the extra level of stress, so Louis just counted it among his blessings that his translating went to shit in high stress situations. It was jarring enough he could tell he was being teased just from the tone, he’d probably really stall out and get nothing done if he took the time to figure out what was being said. After about ten minutes, he cracked, banishing Niall from his work area, and exiling him to the front of the store unless there was a baking emergency.

 Clearing his workspace seemed to also clear his mind, and he was able to whip out three very different options, each reaching his highest standards, while hopefully showcasing some of Anne’s greatest traits. In hindsight, he really should have asked Harry more about her, but he’d been really very distracting and Louis feared today was going to go much the same way. Still, when Niall yelled this time, he was ready to head out to the front of the store to collect the long legged angel. Or at least, he hoped he was. N hadn’t said anything to him about how the big coming out went or if it even did. Louis hadn’t been sure it was his place to ask, so he’d kept quiet.

 Luckily, his worries seemed entirely unfounded. Harry was beaming brighter than he was the day before, curls tied back by a truly ridiculous amount of fabric, legs once again featuring some sort of painted on dark color paired off with a simple v-neck. In other words, not the sweats and misery he was fearing would be walking in today.

“Salut, Monsieur. Ça Va?” Louis teased, subconsciously adjusting his chef jacket as he walked out to the main sales floor, holding out a hand out for Harry to shake. 

If possible, it seemed Harry’s smile actually grew even wider as he stepped forward, grasping Louis’ hand in both of his own, “Ça va, bien!” he said carefully, “I did take French in school, you know. Did awfully, not the teacher’s fault, of course. She was lovely. I’m just rubbish at it. But I’m good, yeah. Thank you for asking. How are you?”

 “Tired.” Louis admitted truthfully, “But come see.” Louis used their connected hands to pull Harry behind the counter, through the kitchen, and finally to the little room he set aside for big projects such as this.

 Immediately, after turning the corner and entering the room, Harry let out a gasp that did nothing to settle Louis’ growing reservations. There were three centerpieces, each set up on their own small circular table spread out around the room. The first was a simple tiered black display featuring black and white desserts, the second was a tarnished metal-esque one with whimsical fairy inspired designs, and finally the third was a set up that abandoned all traditional tiered get ups and used platforms under the tablecloth instead to provide visual hierarchy while relying on the desserts to provide color, texture, and contrast. Louis had more than a few seconds of absolute panic that he’d gotten it all wrong and these were all awful before Harry finally exhaled.

 “Oh, Louis,” Harry glanced at him briefly before he moved, seeming outside of his own volition, though Louis was careful to watch his reactions. Harry took his time, taking in each display in seemingly minute detail before moving to the next, and then repeating. Eventually, he settled back in front of Louis with wide eyes and a gently shaking head. “Niall said you were a genius but I thought he was easily swayed by free food. You are though, each of these are just, so beautiful, Louis. I don’t know how to chose. I’m so sorry for underestimating you. You’re incredible.”

 The taller man turned around again, clearly weighing pros and cons of each again, eventually sparking Louis to do something he’d never done before as he stepped up beside him. “We no … you can mix.” To illustrate his point, he picked up one of the trays of deserts from the platform set up and moved it to the fairy inspired one and vice versa.

 Harry immediately shook his head and darted forward to exchanged them back, literally huffing at Louis’ audacity. “No, no. They’re each perfect just they way they are. I’m not a baker but even I can tell that. You clearly picked each dessert to go with each display, don’t compromise because I’m terribly indecisive.”

 A small fond bubble made Louis’ eyes do something funny like shine as his grin stretched wider, but he ignored it as he reached out to tug Harry closer to the tables. “You try. Maybe the food will help you, no?”

“This is all real? You did all of this last night? Louis.”

“Just try.”

Pink-cheeked, the chef pushed the man towards the black and white dishes while moving to the other side of the table himself so he could take in each of Harry’s reactions again. He’d never dare tell a client which option to go with, but perhaps this one would benefit from a little nudging. Except, even Louis, who was a self-proclaimed master of spotting people trying to feign dislike with delight, couldn’t find a single dessert that was not genuinely enjoyed by the curly-haired man. Each bite seemed to bring him some new excitement, delighting him over and over, first by sight, then touch, then scent, then finally taste. Rarely did anyone who crossed the threshold into his shop, really appreciate the art for what it was and experience it from start to finish, but this man did.

And Louis was not going to forget that any time soon.

 “They’re all wonderful,” Harry breathed finally, big green eyes focusing on him now, instead of his food. “I can’t say it enough. Thank you for doing this and again for sharing it with me. Her party is going to take place outside though and living where we live, I’m afraid the weather will ruin everything. And I would hate for a single mouthful to get spoiled before it gets enjoyed.”

He wanted to protect the food? Was this man real? If he had discussed his unique views on food with N, he might have started to fear this was all a joke, but he hadn’t learned quite enough English for that. “If I protect the food, it also …” Louis bit down on his lip, struggling to come up with the right words now, “I make more if ruined. These are open. You want to…are asked to…enjoy. If shut up, food feels… bad. Not open.”

“Uninviting. Forbidden. I understand. I’ll just put some tarp or something under the table for you.” Both hands rose to adjust the fabric around his head as the lean man rocked on his heels, “Okay, okay. Decision time, Styles. My mother is a classy lady, but she’s also fun, and modern. I don’t know how you got all that just from me rambling, but spot on. Soooo…Eenie meanie minnie moe…” Harry’s finger was stuck on the whimsical one and his grin once again seemed to grow until there were literal dimples popping out, “Yes, this one. It’ll be fun for everyone, especially the younger children with the colors and spun sugars, but there’s enough classics on it to make it accessible to everyone. Not to mention literally everyone will smile when they go near it so yes. It’s this one. Please.”

“Oui. I can do.”

Harry seemed to deflate now that decision-time was over, his whole body appearing looser and smaller now as he turned back to get within touching range of Louis again. “You really are so talented. Did you always want to bake? Have you been doing it a long time? You seem very young.”

Louis was rather unused to the attention being turned on him and found himself tightening up under the interest. “Oh. Thank you. Yes. I always want to bake. I am twenty-six years old. Is that young? What do you do?” Shyly, he reached under the table to pull the inconspicuous lean black box out and just held it in his hands for a moment, since Harry seemed so happy to just talk.

“I’m twenty-four. I’m a primary school teacher when we’re not on holiday. I think it’s fairly young still, yeah. What’s that?”

“For you.” Louis held it out, with just the slightest shaking to betray his nerves, “I not sure if …” his voice trailed off as Harry slowly slide the box open, tentatively at first, but pulled the container out in a rush once he caught sight of the colors.

“Rainbows? Just for me? These are gorgeous. Are they cookies? Can you eat them?”

“Oui. Macarons.”

Harry was still for a moment before turning to carefully set the box on the table while Louis started to panic. Had his coming out gone poorly then? Was it an offensive or painful gesture? Was he not supposed to acknowledge the other’s sexuality even though they’d both made sure to tell him? Had he -

“Oompf.”

His body was once again dwarfed by the man’s currently hugging him, but Louis relaxed into it after a few moments, awkwardly patting the man’s back, yet not pulling back for once. He knew all too well just how overwhelming the first couple people who accepted you as you were could be and was actually a bit honored to be that for this lovely man.

“You are invited still?” Louis asked finally, pulling back to check and make sure the younger man was alright. As far as he could tell the younger man’s eyes were wet, but were also almost as bright as the smile on his face.

“Yeah! Yeah. It went as well as I could have hoped. Better really. Seems I was late to the party. My Mum and sister said they already knew and were just waiting for me to find the right time to tell them. They love me and anyone who loves me the way I deserve, so turns out I did a fair bit of worrying for no good reason. But uh, thank you. For being supportive. It means a lot.”

“So make more rainbows?” 

“Oh, please, yes. All the rainbows.” Harry took a small step back before eyeing Louis again, “You’ll stay, won’t you? For the party?”

“Is that…”

“An invitation? It most certainly is. I would love to see you there, if that’s not too unprofessional. Perhaps you could save me a dance or two?”

“Oh, non. I do the dance not.” Harry’s plump soft pink lip starting peeking out, but Louis was stronger than that. Wasn’t he? “I’ll come. For little bit.”

“Yes!” The man actually punched a fist into the air, then turned to yell, “NIALL, YOU OWE ME 20 QUID.”

The blond peeked in almost immediately, making Louis think he’d been eavesdropping, though he couldn’t say he minded. He loved that N cared so deeply about his friend to do something like that, just in case it’d gone poorly. It made his stomach twist for his own best friend, though N coming to drape an arm around his shoulders was eerily similar. 

“You said yes to a party?” N asked with exaggerated shock.

“You still no funny.” Louis mumbled, but turned into the embrace all the same for a moment, “But yes. Now excuse me. I must lots of baking do.” He slipped out of Niall’s one armed hug to shake Harry’s hand again and wave his spare at N. “‘He help you with papers. You pay after party only if happy, ok? I see you tomorrow. Bonsoir!”

Grinning to himself, he let go of Harry’s hand and left the friends to talk, mind already spinning with half a dozen new ideas to improve upon what Harry had already seen. If all went well, this would be a party that would linger in their memories for many years to come.

~

 

But only if he finished what he set out to do. His changes resulted in a few do-overs, and several time consuming techniques that required several steps before the final product could even start to be assembled. Perhaps he’d been a little overly ambitious thinking it could be done in a little over 24 hours. He’d sent Niall home early the day of the party so he could help Harry clean and decorate the garden, but almost immediately regretted it when he took stock of what was done and what still needed to be started. For an hour to two, he put his head down and just worked, determined to not let himself panic and made some good headway. It took him awhile to realize the knocking wasn’t just an odd noise from a past-its-prime-kitchen, or coming from his phone hooked up to an impressive stereo system (courtesy of N) but someone actually banging at his door. Louis immediately vowed to bake them seven of whatever ridiculous thing they were trying to knock his door down for if they’d just help him for an hour or two.

“Coming! I come!” he called out, turning down his music slightly before running towards the sales floor. It was only as he passed the cashier register that the vague thought formed about this possibly being a robbery attempt but it was dismissed as soon as he caught sight of a leather jacket.

Fumbling with the locks he could never really work well himself, he finally got the door open and flung himself at the body on the other side of it, nearly crying with relief. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” Louis mumbled in rapid-fire French, “Missed you. But kitchen now. Please.”

“Lou?”

“No time to talk!” Louis used their hug to manhandle his best friend into the kitchen and channeled every sad puppy he’d ever seen into one very desperate pout. “Please. Big event today and I’m very behind.”

Zayn rarely got dirty, and even more rarely could be convinced to even try Louis’ creations — which to be fair, he did live with Louis during his culinary school days, so once burned twice shy and all that but he was much better now! Still, he could count on one hand the amount of times Zayn’d actually rolled his sleeves up and jumped in with him and adding this one still wouldn’t make the jump to a second hand. For a moment, blue and brown locked and battled before Zayn gave in and took off the iconic leather jacket to quite literally roll up his sleeves.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Louis tumbled into him for another hug and quick kisses on his cheeks before delegating out a few simple tasks for him to get started while Louis jumped ahead.

Together, they were able to get everything built, baked, chilled, and wrapped for transport with a whole two hours to spare. Which was just enough time for a shower and a nap before beginning the getting dolled up process. Alone, it would have taken Louis around twenty minutes to get ready, but with Zayn, it took nearly an hour. Fashion was his thing, the way food was Louis’, so he knew that while impractical and impossible to recreate on his own — he looked good.

Zayn had a thing about shirts falling low and loose around Louis’ shoulders, exposing a chest tat he was never really sure if he pulled off or not. Zayn tried to reassure him that it left boys everywhere drooling, but tonight was the first time he really could see how that might be even vaguely feasible for himself. The shirt Zayn’d picked out was black and loose like he preferred, lightly skimming over his waist and settling around his hips without strain. And no matter what Zayn said, it was not sparkly, glittery, or shiny - it was merely speckled.

Paired off with a skinny cut version of some fancy black slacks, the contract between his skin, the dark colors, and the dark tat played well together in the sunshine. His eyes kept getting drawn to his own chest to the point he found himself raising a few fingers and flushing as he asked Zayn for the ninth time if this was really okay and appropriate to wear to a garden party. He felt like they should be in suits or at the very least button downs, but Zayn wouldn’t hear it. He just shoved Louis on a chair to tackle his usually forgotten in a hairnet hair, teasing and yanking it until it was some kind of swirly fringey quiffy thing. It wasn’t what Louis was used to seeing when he looked in the mirror, but he trusted Zayn’s judgement that it looked good.

However, he drew the line with Zayn trying to draw lines on his face and promptly shoved him out of the bathroom to finish up on his own. He left a light stubble mainly because he was entirely too tired to shave, a tiny dab of cologne, and some mouthwash and he was as proper for the public as he could be. Still, he lingered a moment longer just eyeing himself in the mirror, uncertain and unsure of what he was doing. Usually he was in and out, dropping the desserts off before the party even started and now he was …running late if the banging on the bathroom door was to believed.

“I’m coming!”

He flung the door open and it was a testament to their many years of friendship that Zayn indulged him in a brief hug before shoving him quite literally out of the house.

Harry had wanted it to be a surprise party so Louis wasn’t shocked to be the only car pulling down the lane. It ended up working in his favor as he was quickly able to find an easily escapable place to park, which was not a common thing considering he had bought a large van with his first profits entirely for catering purposes. Not only could he have entire displays ready to go and securely fastened in the rear, he could also fit a cart with wheels next to it to help him get said pieces to where they needed to go. Today, they’d barely climbed out of the van before rapid footsteps approaching made both their gazes snap up.

Zayn immediately made a light approving sound as he took in Harry, though if he was judging his clothes, face, or both, Louis couldn’t be sure. Then again, he wasn’t sure this was actually happening or that his name was even Louis because Harry looked … he didn’t know a word in English or French to accurately describe him.

Radiant? Gorgeous? Stunning?

They came close, but nobody’d literally made Louis forget his own name before. It was only half his natural beauty once the other half realized that he was matching Louis’ game and then stepping it up a notch. Where Louis had teased with glimpses of his tat, Harry’s were all on display because his fucking shirt was half buttoned and see-thru. Once he got over that and the fabric permanently molded to his legs, he had to laugh.

Harry was too when he got into hearing range and just held his arms out for Louis as he grinned. “I see you got the memo about the glitter.”

“Speckle.” He corrected, though he allowed himself to be folded up into Harry’s arms for a moment, before pulling back and gesturing at Zayn. “C’est mon meilleur ami.”

To his shock, Harry immediately jumped a few feet back, eyes a weird wide as he stuck a stiff hand out. Granted, Zayn was really pretty and often had both sexes reacting to his face in hilarious ways, but this was odd even for him. Confused, he quirked an eyebrow at Zayn, but his best friend was too busy laughing to look back.

“I’m his best friend, not his boyfriend.” Zayn corrected in smooth English, reaching out to grasp Harry’s hand and shake it a little. “You must be Harry. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I am. Yeah. It’s nice to meet you as well?”

“Zayn. My name’s Zayn." 

Now it was the curly’s haired boy’s to grow baffled as he looked between them and Louis huffed a miserable little noise out as Zayn wrapped an easy arm around his shoulders. “Lemme help you out there, I work in an industry that requires more contact with people than food. And I didn’t fail out of English. Twice. 

Louis groaned, turning to hide his shame in Zayn’s shoulder even while reaching to pinch at his side. “We no here for stories! Cake.” He pulled away from Zayn to gesture back at the pieces his display was in for transport. “We have no time, yes?” 

It was hard to ignore how happy Harry was as he stepped forward, lightly touching Louis’ elbow as he peered curiously into the van. “I think it’s cute you suck at English, if that helps any. That said, Zayn — there are always times for stories. Please, feel free to share as many as you want over the course of the night.”

“Noooo!” Louis turned to glare but he got a little distracted by Harry reaching into the van. “Attendez!"

“What? I’m not going to break anything.”

Now it was Zayn’s turn to reach out, wrapping fingers around Harry’s elbow to tug him back a safe distance, “Trust me, mate. It’s better to let him do it. There’s an actual frightening amount of things placed just so in there. Remove the wrong one and …” 

Understanding filled the younger man’s face, but they weren’t idle long. Louis quickly extracted the biggest and heaviest pieces first, knowing there was no use in pretending he wasn’t the smallest person present. Might as well make use of their unfair height and muscles, right? He followed them with his carts and coolers, head down to watch the wheels and make sure nothing spilled or broke in an awful disastrous way therefore missing the scenery completely, until he realized it’d gotten very silent and felt two people staring at him.

His head snapped up, afraid something’d been broken already, but almost immediately his gaze was pulled away from the gorgeous boys. There were flowers almost everywhere, large and small trees providing enough shade that the fairy lights draped here and there seemed almost necessary and not just a design touch. The tables and chairs were incorporated with living flora to the point it was almost hard to see what was manmade and what was natural. To say it was breathtaking wasn’t quite doing it justice. Louis wanted to live here forever.

Struck by sudden inspiration, he asked Zayn to get Harry to find nonpoisonous vines and flowers and started constructing his stand on an abandoned stump, doing the best he could to disguise the metal with leafy vines and creatively placed bright flowers. It wasn’t as altogether natural looking as some other benches and seats, but it was at least no longer a discordant eye sore.

Harry was gasping to his right once it was done and Louis just shared a small smile with him, before drifting a little closer to Zayn and safety. Unfamiliar people had started pouring from the house, with Louis only recognizing N for awhile until customers of his started to trickle in. It didn’t take long after that for Harry to frantically tell them all to shut up and hide, turning all the lights off again with none of them even daring to breathe as headlights lit them all up for a moment as a car pulled into a drive.

Doors open and shut before a faint, “Hey, Mum. I think Harry said something about making dinner in the garden tonight, why don’t you go see if he’s back there and I’ll go grab us some drinks, yeah?” floated out towards them.

Heels clicking on the stone path was the only sound in the early evening air until someone sneezed, making them all freeze again, certain the jig was up, but the gate still swung open with a quiet, “Harry? Was that you, love?”

An instinctive count seemed to happen before twenty people simultaneously jumped out yelling “Surprise!” at various volumes. Lights flicked on all throughout the backyard at the same time, illuminating her shock and panic for everyone to see.

This was fun. Louis would have to give them that much, though, he quickly and lowly swore many painful things on Zayn’s life if he got any ideas for Louis’ own birthday. He did not react nearly as gracefully to surprises.

Harry left their side to greet his mother, while Zayn mumbled about drinks, leaving Louis with N. Almost instinctively, Louis turned towards the display, eyes moving over it critically until his body was being quite literally turned away and pushed after Zayn’s.

“Oh, no, Louis. You are not here to work. Don’t get me wrong it looks gorgeous, and I’m certain it’ll taste amazing. You did a wonderful job, but that’s not why Harry invited you. You’re here to have fun, to relax, live a lil. So lighten up, yeah? No working! Zayn, get the chef a drink, please.”

No working? Louis glanced between N and the display with his thoughts clearly written all over his face prompting Niall to drag him faster and further away.

“Nope. Stop thinking about it. Focus on drinking, dancing, and merrymaking. You’re welcome!” Laughing, he passed Louis off into Zayn’s arms and made sure Louis had a drink in hand before he was off, charming his way through the crowd.

“Crazy arsehole,” Louis mumbled, though at Zayn’s pointed glance, took a long careful sip of his mystery glass.

~

 

A couple glasses more put him quite firmly into the party mood, happy to taste unfamiliar foods, and chat brokenly to complete strangers. Harry came to kidnap him before he managed to convince Zayn to get him another fruity drink, deciding to bring him along on another loop of more unfamiliar faces that Louis had most certainly not noticed him making all night. Nope. It took awhile for his party mind to realize that chatting with Louis at his side was networking. Harry was introducing him to people who were decidedly not his customers and yet had hands and mouths full of his food. The professional in him was sated finally, even if he had been itching to go check on the display and see if emergency replenishments were needed.

“You are a wonderful person,” Louis breathed finally, and it was for that reason only that he allowed himself to be pulled onto the dance floor. There was some sort of silly fun song on that let Louis see Harry make moves he’d honestly never seen another human being make before, but it was drawing laughter out of him from some place formerly unexplored as well. The giggles didn’t stop until the beat slowed down and Harry was suddenly everywhere.

“My apologies if this is too forward,” Harry whispered, wrapping his arms low around Louis’ waist and drawing him in closer. “But you look stunning tonight.”

“Me?” Louis squeaked, raising one of his hands to tweak one of Harry’s curls as the other brushed over the sheer shirt, “Do you see you? There no boy ici that a une chance contre you.” Actually come to think of it. “Pourquoi you dance avec moi? Zayn …"

Instantly a finger came to rest against his lips and Louis had to fight off giggles again. This felt like a romance movie. His life, of all things, feeling like a romance movie. It was hilarious and he couldn’t help but give in to his incredulity even as Harry pulled him closer.

“I’m not interested in Zayn,” Harry said quietly, “Niall mentioned you’re completely awkward around or ridiculously oblivious to the girls that throw themselves at you in your shop. He thought you might … bat for my team, but that you hadn’t said one way or another. So I’m just going to come out and ask. Louis Tomlinson, will you go on a date with me?”

“Quoi?”

“Wait, wait.” Harry’s hands and body were suddenly ripped out of his touch, drawing a small pout from him before he could think twice about it. Luckily, Harry didn’t notice as he fumbled for his phone, quickly unlocking it and shooting nervous eyes up at Louis before dropping back down to his screen, “Ess-kay voo voolez sort…sorteer avec moi?”

Stunned, Louis glanced at the bar a moment, wondering what the hell was in those drinks before realizing that was actual French trying to leave Harry’s mouth. It took a few times playing it back a few times in his foggy mind before it finally clicked, making him belatedly gasp.

“You want … date with me?” he repeatedly slowly, not daring to hope.

“Oui, oui!” Harry teased, “If you’ll have me.”

Giggling again, but this time out of sheer delight, he nodded quickly. “Yes. I will go on date with you.”

And just like that, Harry was in his arms again, burying his oversized smile in Louis’ undersized shoulder, forcing them to sway to the beat  as Harry’s hands lightly squeezed his sides. “Don’t scare me like that, Tomlinson.”

Giddy with as much disbelief as happiness, Louis nodded, still grinning goofily as the drinks and allnighters he’d pulled started to catch up to him. It didn’t take long until he was fighting back yawns, so he let Harry rearrange them until Louis was tucked safe and warm against his chest with his arms wrapped securely around his back and waist as they swayed. Louis couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so much at peace at a party before. Said peace only lasted for a handful of songs, then his head dropped down to rest against Harry’s shoulder as his body went lax and sleepy as exhaustion set in.

At least he was sleepy until there was a the light touch on his shoulder. Groggily, he lifted his head as he tried to place the woman standing there. Nothing sparked until she smiled and then he saw Harry reflected back at him. And oh. Oh, shit.

Jerking upright like he’d been scalded, he pulled his hands off Harry, taking a large step back as he flushed awkwardly. “Happy Birthday, Madame. I hope you enjoying?”

“I am, thank you. Your desserts are beautiful, I can’t thank you enough for them, but I was wondering if I could borrow my son for a spin?”

“Yes. Sorry. Here … bye Harry.”

Louis nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get away, but he did manage to get off the dance floor unscathed. Finding Zayn or N was proving to be a bigger challenge, and he was kicking himself for not looking when he had the few extra inches from the dance floor. Then he remembered he could just follow the signs of laughter. They would lead him to the bar and at the bar would be… Zayn and N. Both of whom were looking very serious for all the laughter going on around them. Curiosity peaked, Louis crept through the small crowd until he could see the collection of glasses that were filling the table between them and immediately paled.

“Looooueeeehhhh." 

N’s cheeks were red, his eyes brighter than normal, but he was still upright and apparently in very good spirits. Zayn had the audacity to not even look affected, though Louis had seen him wasted enough to see the tell tale signs beginning.

“You both regret this tomorrow.” Louis reminded them both in the best mock-chiding voice he had before he took a seat nearby to watch them continue to make gigantic fools of themselves. This seemed to be a tradition of sorts, once he sat and observed a little. The people around them were placing bets, while rehashing famous showdowns in recent history. Niall was apparently some sort of undefeated champ, but Louis was fairly confident that’d come to an end tonight. Zayn may look like a lot of things, but he was rarely as he seemed.

Harry came back just as the bartender declared a draw. Apparently alcohol poisoning was a thing that he wasn’t going to let happen on his watch, so it was a history making event after all. Never before had a drawn been called and it was making N and Zayn eye each other with mutual respect. Louis couldn’t find a thing to complain about other than Harry was too far away and there were too many hours between him and bedtime.

Seeming to share his sentiments, Harry came to drop into the seat next to him with a bashful little smile that was all too easy to return.

“Did you want clean up tonight or tomorrow?” Louis asked, flushing again as a rather large yawn interrupted the end of his question.

“Awh, leaving me so soon?”

Louis ducked his head but lifted his shoulders in a light shrug. “I bring Zayn and Niall home before bad things ehhhh…make? Do? Happen! I come back after if you need?” English was getting very out of his brain’s ability right now, but Harry seemed unbothered by it, gently lifting his chin up to connect their eyes once more.

“I don’t care if they pass out naked in the pool right now,” he admitted brashly, “But if you’re tired and ready to go, you can go.. I’ll keep everything safe and dry. You can come pick it up tomorrow —whenever’s convenient for you. I’m just happy you came. Very very happy. I just have one request before you go.” 

“Mmm?” 

The hand on his chin dropped, moving to somewhere near the ground before it was back and this time grasping some sort of lean black box. Louis watched it with a vague sense of deja vu until the top was slid off making him gasp slightly. How could he have forgotten already?

“Have a cookie with me."

And alright. So maybe this was not what he’d have planned if given the option. And maybe, once upon a time, this all would have frustrated him to no end -- the last minute request, having no direct access to his client, the conflict between the agreed upon finished display and the wildly inappropriate scenery it was supposed to be showcased in, but he had to realize with a start that none of that had so much as ruffled a metaphoric feather. Maybe his Prince Charming wasn’t a French model after all, but was a curly haired English man, who barked when he laughed and stepped on his feet while dancing. And also somehow got Louis to forget about the small things, showing him how to truly understand what it means to live in the moment.

And this moment, with flaky crust still sticking to their lips, and tongues a little too sweet from the ganache, well, it was a moment he wouldn’t mind being stuck in for years to come.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you have comments, questions, concerns feel free to hit me up at [my tumblr.](http://jfc-theseboys.tumblr.com)


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